Chapter Text
The floor is cold beneath me, a stark contrast to the fire burning in my ribs. Each breath is a battle, pain stabbing through my chest like a blade with every shallow inhale. I should have screamed. Should have begged. That’s what they wanted. A show for OZ, proof of loyalty, even if it was nothing more than a well-played lie to keep working on Deathscythe and Shenlong in secret.
But I refused.
Master O’s blows had dragged me to the edge of oblivion, my vision flickering, the taste of blood thick on my tongue. Still, I grinned, spitting crimson onto the floor. “Mamma told me real men never scream out loud,” I had taunted.
Then came the final blow.
Tossed at the feet of the Lunar Base guards, I barely had time to brace myself before Professor G’s boot slammed into my ribs. Something inside me snapped—sharp, sickening. This time, I knew it wasn’t just bruises.
He had to make it look real. “You traitor, coming in here and trying to kill us. Is that any way to repay me after all I’ve done? We’re not going to let anyone interfere with our research.”
But that didn’t stop me from cursing him, and every last one of those damn lords of plague, for it.
When they finally threw me into the cell, I couldn’t keep my balance. My legs gave out beneath me, and I hit the floor face-first, unable to catch myself with my hands bound in cuffs. The impact sent a fresh wave of pain through my battered body, but I barely had the strength to react.
As my eyes adjusted to the dim light, I saw them.
I saw him.
And through the haze of pain, I felt it, that tiny, fragile spark of hope. Heero.
"Botched your mission?" His voice was calm, collected, but I knew better. Even in the shadows, I could read the storm behind his ocean-blue eyes. The emotions he always tried so hard to suppress—anger, worry, relief. I knew he hated seeing me like this, yet for a moment, I swore I caught something else in his gaze. Something softer. He was glad I was here.
But then reality set in. He was also furious.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen me like this. Memories flickered at the edges of my mind—another cell, another moment when I had been broken and bleeding, when I had begged for death so I wouldn’t slow him down. Back then, he had hesitated, finger poised on the trigger, torn between duty and… something else.
Now? Now, with the colonies siding with OZ, what was his mission?
"You couldn’t destroy the base, and you didn’t kill Dr. J and the others."
I let out a shaky breath, trying to focus past the pounding in my skull. The cell was small and suffocating, a box of concrete and steel. A single dim light flickered above, casting weak shadows against the walls. The only opening was a narrow slit in the door, just enough for them to watch us. They knew exactly how dangerous Gundam pilots were.
Across the room, Heero and Wufei sat together. Seeing them both here… well, at least I wouldn’t be fighting alone. If anything happened, I wouldn’t go down without a fight.
I swallowed the blood pooling in my mouth and forced out a weak chuckle. "How about a little sympathy?" My voice was hoarse, barely more than a rasp. "In any case, I’m still glad I came. I’ve got good news."
I turned my head just enough to meet Wufei’s dark, steady gaze. "Your Gundam and mine are being rebuilt as we speak. I can hardly wait until they’re done."
He nodded, his expression unreadable, but beneath the stoicism, I knew he understood.
"Looks like OZ will be keeping us alive for a while," Heero muttered, voice edged with bitterness. "It’s a good chance. So don’t die yet."
Wufei and I shared the sentiment. OZ keeping us alive was just another opportunity, to escape, and to fight back, to win.
But exhaustion was creeping in fast. The wounds, the beating, the sheer weight of it all—I could feel myself slipping, my vision blurring at the edges. Still, I mustered a grin, pulling on my joker’s mask to hide the worst of it.
"Don’t worry about me, pal. I have no intention of dying that easily."
I tried to meet Heero’s gaze fully, but the swelling on one eye made it impossible. With the other, I caught it—the unspoken horror. The realization of just how much damage had been done to me.
I wanted to laugh, to brush it off like I always did, but my body betrayed me. The pull of unconsciousness was too strong.
I barely managed to whisper my final words before the darkness swallowed me whole.
"There’s the colonies to fight for. Just watch me… I’ll become the God of Death once again. But right now…" I groaned. "I need some sleep."
And then, everything went black.
The next thing I remembered was strong hands pulling me up, propping me against the cold wall. Every movement sent sharp, burning pain through my body, making it hard to breathe. My eye was still swollen shut, but I forced the other one open.
Heero.
Even with his hands still bound in cuffs, he had the strength to manoeuvre me effortlessly, shifting my weight so I could sit upright. The blood pooling in my mouth made me cough, and the instant regret was searing. Yep. Definitely broken ribs, though how many I couldn’t be sure.
Heero’s eyes flicked to my face, catching the way I tensed. A flicker of something passed through his gaze, concern, maybe even guilt.
I mustered a weak, tired smile. Breathing hurt a little less in this position, but the pain still throbbed through every inch of me.
Then, something rare, Heero’s lips twitched, just slightly. A small smile of his own. A private moment, just for me.
His hands moved again, this time skimming over my body, silently assessing the damage. I could feel him cataloguing every injury. The bruises on my face. The broken ribs. The fresh cuts along my arms, barely hidden beneath the tattered remains of my shirt. His fingers lingered there, the slight lift of fabric exposing just enough for him to see what I had tried to hide.
His lips pressed into a thin line. That look, I knew it too well. He was blaming himself. Not for the beating. Not for the mission. But for not being there afterwards.
I glanced around the room. Wufei lay asleep across from us, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
“He’s asleep,” Heero murmured, his voice quiet but certain, as if reading my mind.
A small chuckle escaped me. My eye slid closed again. “I’m not sure a band-aid is gonna help this time, ‘Ro.”
I swore I heard the low vibration of a growl deep in his chest.
"I’ll kill whoever did this to you."
There it is.
“’Ro, it’s okay. I’m fine,” I lied, even as his fingers trembled against my skin. His touch was careful, but even the lightest pressure sent sharp jolts through me. I winced despite myself.
“You’re not fine, Duo.” His voice was steady, but I knew better. I knew that tone, the rage simmering just beneath the surface, barely restrained. "I’ll find them, and I will kill them. It’s a promise."
He shifted then, moving so that his back rested against the wall next to me. I let my head drop onto his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, the warmth of his body against mine. Even with the cuffs binding our wrists, we instinctively leaned closer, seeking out whatever comfort we could.
I sighed, melting into his warmth. “I feel safer knowing you’re here, ‘Ro.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“I know.” I smiled against the fabric of his shirt. “But I’m your idiot.”
A sudden, violent cough ripped through me, sending fresh agony through my ribs. The force of it jolted me away from him, my body convulsing as I fought for breath. I barely noticed Heero pulling back just enough to give me space, just enough so he wouldn’t hurt me.
And then, just as easily, he was back, steady and unmoving.
Somehow, his hand found mine. His grip was firm, unwavering.
The pain faded, just a little.
"Go back to sleep, Duo," he whispered, his breath warm against my ear.
But I couldn’t.
Not when sleep meant waking up to a world where he might not be there.
Instead, I pressed in closer, ignoring his words, holding onto the one solid thing I had left.
I squeezed his hand in return.
“You know, Heero,” I rasped, my voice barely more than a whisper. “Thought I came here to destroy the Lunar Base…”
I paused, swallowing down the pain that tried to pull me back into the darkness. It clung to me, thick and suffocating, but I forced myself to stay awake.
“But now… I think I just came here to hear your voice.”
I hadn’t known he was here. Not for sure. I knew he had tried to destroy the base. But seeing it still standing, seeing soldiers like Hilde fighting to defend it… I knew something had gone wrong. He hadn’t made it in time.
The thought had haunted me. That he had been captured. That he might have been killed.
That fear, that anger, it had driven me forward, reckless and wild. And yet, sitting here with him now, I felt something I hadn’t expected. Relief. A weight lifting, just enough for me to breathe.
I didn’t know how long we’d have together. Days, maybe only hours. But I savoured every second, drinking in his presence like nectar.
One month.
That’s all it would take. One month until Deathscythe was complete. Until I’d rise again, rip through OZ like a storm, and show them exactly who they were dealing with.
Deathscythe Hell.
Yeah. It had a nice ring to it. The God of Death reborn.
Eventually, the exhaustion won.
Sleep came in fragments, incoherent and restless. I’d wake just enough to cough, to shift against the cold, unforgiving floor, trying and failing to find a position that didn’t make me want to scream. Every time I forced my good eye open, there was a face watching over me.
Heero.
Always Heero.
I tried to say his name, but nothing came out.
Sometimes I thought I felt a hand on my cheek, warm, and fleeting. But I couldn’t be sure if it was real or just another fever-drenched dream. Other times, I’d open my eye to see Wufei instead, his sharp, unreadable gaze fixed on me, the ever-watchful warrior standing guard.
They were taking turns.
Watching over me. Protecting me.
It should have been comforting. And it was. But still… I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was a burden.
I should’ve been bleeding out in a cell of my own, fading away in silence. Death felt like a fair trade for this failure.
And yet…
They wouldn’t let me go so easily.
A few days passed.
I had just enough strength to sit up, though every movement still sent pain lancing through my ribs. Breathing was easier, but not by much. My body was trying to heal, but it was slow, painfully slow.
The guards fed us when they remembered, shoving small paper plates through the slit in the door. The food was barely edible, but it was all that we had.
I tried. I really did. But every bite was tainted with the warm, metallic taste of blood. It clung to my tongue, no matter how many times I swallowed. The moment the food touched my lips, my stomach twisted in protest.
I could feel Heero watching me.
His gaze was heavy, filled with silent disapproval. I knew what he was thinking—you need to eat to get your strength back. And yeah, I got it. But that didn’t change the fact that every mouthful felt like swallowing iron and bile.
I caught the small movement of his hand, the hesitation as he considered pushing his own plate toward me. More food, more strength. But I shook my head before he could try.
He needed it more than I did.
I wasn’t the one keeping watch every second of the day. I wasn’t the one pushing myself to the edge of exhaustion to make sure nothing happened while I recovered. He needed to eat. He needed to be strong.
Me? I could go a little longer.
At some point, I found myself resting my head in his lap.
I wasn’t sure how I had ended up there, only that his quiet presence eased the pain in a way nothing else could. Maybe I had slithered into his arms while Wufei was taking his turn to rest, or maybe Heero had pulled me there himself, stubborn as ever in his silent need to do something, anything. Either way, I didn’t fight it.
Didn’t want to fight it.
Through it all, his warmth chased away another kind of ache, the one I never spoke about. The one that whispered in the back of my mind, you deserve this.
God, I had wanted to cut so badly. Let the blood take another route instead. Instead of tasting it, I would have the comfort and control I fought for.
It felt like a lifetime ago since I had last held a blade against my skin. My fingers twitched with the craving, my body remembering the ritual of it. But this time, it wasn’t just the usual weight pressing down on me.
It was failure.
I had come here to destroy the Lunar Base, to stop OZ before they could do more damage. And yet, here I was, another wreck of a human being, beaten and broken in another godforsaken cell. Captured again. Useless again.
How many people had OZ killed while I was lying here, too weak to do anything? How many innocent lives had been lost because I hadn’t been strong enough to complete my mission?
I longed for the days with Howard.
For that fleeting, untouchable month aboard his ship, where the war had felt just far enough away that I could breathe. Where, just for a moment, I could pretend that I wasn’t drowning.
Heero’s fingers threaded through my hair, slow and steady, as if grounding me with each stroke. His touch was gentle, so unlike the rest of the world. Unlike the pain that still throbbed beneath my skin, the bruises painting my body in ugly shades of purple and yellow. Unlike the memories of fists and boots and the taste of my own blood, which still lingered on my tongue.
But this… this was different. This was warmth. This was safety.
His eyes, dark and unreadable, never left my face. He didn’t speak, but he didn’t need to. I knew that look. Knew the weight of unspoken guilt he always carried, the silent blame he placed on himself for every wound I bore. I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. That I would’ve ended up here no matter what. That I didn’t regret coming, because it meant I was here with him.
His fingers trailed down, brushing over my face, tracing the bruises that had begun to fade. I barely winced this time. My breathing had steadied, my ribs no longer screaming with each inhale. The taste of blood had dulled, only coming now when I bit my lip, trying to silence the thoughts that crept in.
Would we survive this war?
Would there ever be a world where we weren’t running, fighting, bleeding?
Would there be a world where we could just… be?
His touch lingered against my lips, hesitant but deliberate, and without thinking, I parted them slightly. A breath. A whisper of a moment. Then, I pressed a soft kiss against his fingertips.
His voice, quiet but certain, settled between us like a promise.
“I missed you.”
I swallowed, my throat tight. “I missed you too, ‘Ro.”
His small, almost imperceptible smile was one only I ever got to see. And I knew—no matter how many battles we had left, no matter what hell awaited us beyond this cell—this moment was ours.
And for now, that was enough.